


Belated Birthday -- The Adventures of Elizabeth and Illya, Part 2

by khelbing



Series: The Adventures of Illya and Elizabeth [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khelbing/pseuds/khelbing
Summary: Illya and Napoleon take a long weekend in Michigan to celebrate Elizabeth's birthday
Relationships: Love among three unlikely people
Series: The Adventures of Illya and Elizabeth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963624
Kudos: 3





	Belated Birthday -- The Adventures of Elizabeth and Illya, Part 2

Illya looked up from typing their report on the Langdon Affair. “I have a bootleg birthday present for Elizabeth. Come to Michigan with me and we’ll have a nice, long weekend and a belated birthday party.”  
“Sounds good, partner mine. I’d like to get her something.”  
“She would tell you that just our sweet faces are enough.”  
“Did you get her a cake?”  
Illya looked up from typing. “I’ll buy one. I did send her flowers. Or, actually, Del Floria did.”  
Napoleon gave Illya a long look. “I always wonder how much does she know about your … uh … job?”  
“Some. Do you want to come?”  
“Won’t three be a crowd?”  
“No, Napoleon, Elizabeth is as fond of you as I am. Besides, you can practice situational awareness and I can be a besotted husband.”  
“So you want a bodyguard?”  
“The practice will do you good.” Illya kept typing.

They rented a car in Lansing and drove through the beautiful fall countryside. After about forty-five minutes, Napoleon looked over at Illya and said, “I just had a thought.”  
Illya looked up from the physics journal he was reading and said, “Do tell.”  
“Does that fifty-mile rule cover me? Should I be watching for Thrushies?”  
“Napoleon,” Illya said with exaggerated patience, “Logically it would cover you as well, because if you were attacked, I would have to respond. Really!”  
“I’m not sure THRUSH would go along with your logic.”  
“Then practice situational awareness. I want to finish this article. She married me for my brains, after all.”  
“Kuryakin, you can be an ass.”  
“Yes, Elizabeth married me for that, too.” They both grinned at each other and Illya went back to his reading.  
Napoleon took the exit to Asherton. They drove on for fifteen minutes and started passing fraternity and sorority houses. Illya shut his journal and said, “Turn left here. We’re going to pick up a cake.”  
Napoleon noted the fresh flowers in his bedroom and thought maybe Illya was right, and Elizabeth liked him for his own sake. Her sparkle reminded him a little of his own late wife, but he resolutely, once again, cut off that line of thought. One thing he always enjoyed was watching them first meet. Illya was out of the car even before he had it in park, and Elizabeth ran out the door. They hugged completely, and then Elizabeth turned and hugged Napoleon.  
“I’m so glad you’re here. Both of you. It is good to see you again, Napoleon.” Elizabeth was always polite, but she and Illya were looking at each other as if they were water on a desert.  
Napoleon unpacked quickly, noting that he did indeed have a private line. He wondered if Elizabeth resented that he almost always came along with Illya. She did not seem to, but it would be natural if she did. She had made reservations for them at the Union Club on campus and had told Napoleon that she was looking very much forward to being escorted by the two most gorgeous men in the world. Illya had rolled his eyes and snorted, but before he could say anything, Elizabeth had said, “I mean it. You two are gorgeous. I shall be the envy of Asherton.”  
As she had gone back into their bedroom, Illya had called after her, “That’s a very small sample of men.” He had then turned to Napoleon and said, “She’s putting on makeup. We have a while to wait.” He had then poured each of them a drink and they sat down at the breakfast bar.  
“Illya, are you sure I am not crowding you and Elizabeth? You two don’t get to see each other that often, and you know what they say – that three’s a crowd.”  
Illya had looked at him and then, pouring another vodka for himself, had sighed and said, “I am going to be very honest with you, Napoleon. It is sheer joy to me to have the two people I love in the same place. When you are here with us, then I know that everyone in my world is safe.”  
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”  
“Tell me you remembered to pick up the bracelet.”  
“Right here.” He handed Illya the box that clearly said ‘Tiffaney.’  
“Thank you. This I will give her in private, later.” He picked up a checkbook and scanned it. “Well, I am ashamed of myself. Here I am, a top UNCLE agent, and I didn’t know my wife was getting her hair done every three weeks.”  
At that moment Elizabeth came out, and Napoleon thought again that watching her and Illya look at each other was just a happy thing. “I didn’t take too long, did I?” she asked and smiled at Napoleon.  
“Yes, but it was worth the wait,” said Illya. “You look very fetching, Dr. Darrow.”  
“I don’t believe anyone has ever said that to me before,” Elizabeth said as Illya helped her into her coat. “If you want, I can drive.” Napoleon ended up driving with Illya in the front seat. As Illya had opened the back door for her, she had said, “I feel like the Queen!”  
Their entry into the Union Club had indeed caused a stir. Several people outright stared, and Napoleon noted that he was getting as many looks as Illya did. He thought that most of their audience was trying to guess which one was her husband. Their waiter was a student of Elizabeth’s, and there was an awkward moment when he had reached for Napoleon’s hand, saying he was so glad to meet Mr. Darrow. That got another eyeroll from Illya, but Elizabeth had said gently, “Mr. Solo is our great friend, Artie. Let me introduce you to my husband, Dr. Kuryakin.”  
Illya had stood and Artie towered over him. As Illya and Artie shook hands, Napoleon could tell that Illya was amused. “I am always glad to meet one of Elizabeth’s students.”  
“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Sir. Everybody wants to meet you. You’re quite a mystery man.”  
“Not really. Mr. Solo and I own an import/export business. No mystery in that.”  
“No, I guess not.” Artie was clearly nonplussed. He was so much bigger than Illya, and Napoleon, for that matter, and was still young enough to be easily embarrassed. “It’s just that …”  
“It’s not anything, Artie,” Elizabeth said calmly. “I think we’re ready to order now.” Grateful to be told what to do, Artie took their orders; Napoleon ordered a bottle of champaign to go with dessert.  
When Artie brought out the wine and bread, Elizabeth glanced around the room and said, “I can’t believe how many people are staring at us. How rude!”  
“I think,” Illya said in his driest tone, “they are staring at the gorgeous Russian history professor and the two scruffy men she dragged in.”  
“You, Illya Nikolayevich, are being quite ridiculous. Pass the bread.”  
Illya handed it to her while he and Napoleon both looked over the diners. It was true what Elizabeth had said, they were being openly stared at. Illya pushed some air out, usually a sign that he was getting ready to take out a Thrushie, and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t eat out, Elizabeth.”  
She looked hurt for a moment, and then said in a very quiet voice, “I know there are a lot of rules that we have to follow, and I do that, willingly. But let me, just once, have the sheer joy of showing you off.” She smiled at Napoleon, “And you, too, of course. I stand by my earlier statement – you two are the most gorgeous men in the world.”  
“Elizabeth,” Illya said mock sternly, “Men are not gorgeous.”  
“Well, you two are.” She saw that Artie was bringing out their dinners and said to Illya, “Artie’s nervous enough, Illya Nikolayevich, be kind.”  
“I’m never anything else.” Both she and Napoleon shook their heads in amazement at that blatant falsehood.  
Artie managed not to drop anything, but it was a near run thing. Napoleon looked up from his steak and saw an older man staring at them. It was not the first time he had seen this man glaring at them and so asked Elizabeth who he was. “Oh,” she said, “He’s the chair of the chemistry department. He’s a real red baiter, and somehow he found out that I am married to a Soviet national. At the last faculty meeting he asked me if I were a ‘card carrying communist.’”  
Illya looked up from his lamb and said, “I’m afraid to find out what you told him.”  
“I told him they had quit giving out cards a long time ago.”  
“Bozhe moi, Elizabeth.”  
“Bozhe moi, indeed, Illya Nikolayevich, the last time I checked this is a free country.”  
“Well, now I know why you two are married. You both like to antagonize people.” Napoleon signaled Artie to begin clearing. He suddenly realized that it was not only Illya who had ‘work related’ problems from their marriage. He turned to Elizabeth and asked, “Do you get a lot of crap like that?”  
“Well,” Elizabeth replied, “a lot of it goes with being a Russian/Soviet historian. Some people think that I must be a ‘commie sympathizer,’ if I teach about the Revolution, or Russia. And some people don’t like a woman teaching in college. Old Bernie over there is both.”  
Illya picked up the cake that he had brought in, while Napoleon opened the champagne. When he had poured for all of them, he stood and said, “To the doctors Kuryakin, my best friends.” Elizabeth smiled and wiped away tears; Illya actually blushed. As Napoleon sat down he thought there was no doubt about it, they were definitely attracting attention.  
What surprised him was that Elizabeth then stood and said, “To Napoleon Solo, best man, maid of honor, and my other best friend.”  
Illya looked at them both, and then rose and said, “To my world.” Illya and Elizabeth exchanged one of ‘those’ looks, and then Illya said, “I think we had better quiet down; we are attracting far too much attention.” Napoleon turned and saw that ‘Old Bernie’ was still glaring at them.  
As they were finishing their cake, and the bottle of champagne, a waitress came over and said, “I apologize for interrupting, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Dr. Darrow.”  
Elizabeth stopped smiling, but manners dictated that she introduce the young woman. “Janet Barnes, let me introduce you to Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin.” They both stood and shook her hand. Illya looked questioningly at Elizabeth, because Elizabeth had not introduced him as her husband. Napoleon also noted the omission and wondered what was going on, but also saw that Elizabeth did not want any further conversation with the young woman.  
Janet waited a little while longer, then apparently realized no further conversation was coming. She mumbled ‘nice to meet you’ and walked away.  
“What was all that about, Elizabeth?” asked Illya. “You are not usually so curt with your students.”  
“That girl, as you would say, Illya Nikolayevich, is a pain in the ass. If I gave her any encouragement, she’d sit down and pour out her life story, again. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I’m not going to let her eat up any of the time I have with you.”

As they drove back, Elizabeth sat in the back seat, doing a spot-on imitation of Queen Elizabeth, wave, commentary on Phillip and Charles, and all. She was so good that neither Illya nor Napoleon could stop laughing. Once they got home, Elizabeth went outside with her dog while Napoleon and Illya made themselves another drink.  
“Elizabeth doesn’t think she’ll get tenure, and I think it is partially because of me,” Illya said as he sat down on the couch.  
“She told you?”  
“Yes, she’s worried about it. ‘Old Bernie’ is apparently quite a power here.” He sat his drink down on the coffee table. “She has another year, of course, but I think it fair to say she will have difficulties.”  
“But you told me she had published. Isn’t that what they say – publish or perish?”  
“Yes, she has. In fact, even Mr. Waverly read her last article and he commended me on it. But it is difficult for her, Napoleon. I was so focused on what it meant marrying me because of the job, that I really didn’t think about what it would mean for her, in terms of what people would say, or do, about her job. We talked about it the last time I was here and she said the strangest thing.”  
“What?”  
“She said, ‘Well, Illya Nikolayevich, it’s sure not Ozzie and Harriet.’” Napoleon started laughing so hard he choked on his scotch.  
Illya said, “I understood the cultural reference, and I am very much afraid I had the same reaction. It was awkward.”  
Elizabeth came back in, smiled at them both and said ‘good night.’ After wishing Napoleon a good night, Illya followed her into the bedroom. Napoleon went into his room, tried reading for a while, but then quickly went to sleep.  
He was blasted out of bed the next morning by the sounds of Dusty Springfield singing “I Only Want To Be With You.” He put on his robe and slippers, came out to the kitchen and saw Elizabeth making goo -goo eyes at Illya, lip syncing the song. When that song finished, Illya went back into their bedroom and brought out his ‘boot leg’ present. Napoleon saw that Elizabeth was wearing the bracelet. He didn’t want to be vulgar about it, but they both looked as if they had spent a pleasant night.  
Illya handed the package, obviously a record, to Elizabeth. When she opened it, she literally danced for joy, quickly took Dusty Springfield off the hi-fi, and put Illya’s gift on. Then, it was a moment that Napoleon would remember all his life. Elizabeth using one of Illya’s old flannel shirts as a robe, she and Illya both holding mugs of tea, belting out the national anthem of the Soviet Union, with the accompaniment of the Red Army Choir. It was insane, and Napoleon was happy to be part of the insanity.

About an hour after that Napoleon wandered into the kitchen, to find Illya glaring at the sink. Illya had brought a book titled How to Make Household Repairs and, when, after Napoleon had poured himself another cup of coffee, he turned to find Illya staring at the book and the sink. “There’s a leak I need to fix.” Given their line of work, Napoleon found that funny. He started laughing but one look at Illya put a stop to that. “I’m going to work on this. Elizabeth needs to go to her office. Why don’t you get dressed and go with her? I think I want to be alone with this.” He held up a wrench and glared at Napoleon.  
“All right, partner mine. I’d rather watch this but I get the feeling I’m not welcome.”  
“Brilliant analysis, Napoleon.” Illya returned to the book that he had propped up on the counter.  
He quickly dressed and met Elizabeth in the living room. “It’s not pretty in there, is it?” Elizabeth smiled as she said it. “I never would have said anything about it if I would have known he was going to fix it … try to fix it.”  
“Oh, he’ll fix it. If nothing else, he’ll just blow it up.”  
“Part of me is afraid that you are not kidding.” She picked up her purse and listened for a moment, and then yelled at Illya, in English, “That is not a physical possibility. You should know that, Mr. Quantum.” She turned to Napoleon and said, “It’s bad, he’s cursing in Russian.”  
“Let’s go now, Elizabeth. After all, I have a sworn duty to protect you.”  
“Does that include the house?”  
“Let’s go.”  
He was surprised that Elizabeth had elected to walk to her office. “I wanted to walk because I want to talk to you. How is Illya Nikolayevich doing? He seems fine but I noticed some more abrasions. That’s the deal, isn’t it? I never ask.”  
He decided to tell her what he had been feeling for months. “Elizabeth, I have to tell you that I can’t believe this is working, but it is. I tried to talk him out of it, you know.”  
“I know. You were always honest with me, with us. He told me from the beginning that it would be very difficult, but that he could work things out. So has he?”  
That was a direct question, and deserved a direct answer. “So far, so good. In our line of work, that’s success.”  
“I … I’m not allowed to ask.” It was a statement, not a question.  
“No, you are not. As you said, that’s the deal.”  
“Take care of him, Napoleon. Take care of yourself. You two are two halves of a whole that I get to have a little part of, sometimes.”  
“You have his whole heart, Elizabeth. I have no doubt of that.”  
“No, but it’s enough for now. It has to be.” She abruptly changed the subject, pointing out university buildings. They walked on for a block and she went up a short flight of concrete steps and unlocked a massive door. They went down a dark hallway, and Napoleon had to acknowledge that he was practicing ‘situational awareness.’ She unlocked another door, went through an office, unlocked yet another door, and they were in her office.  
On her desk was one of the copies of the picture Napoleon had taken of them right after their wedding. He was happily surprised to see that there was also a picture of Illya and himself. He had a copy of that picture, too. She had taken it at the restaurant they had gone to after the wedding. Looking at the bookcases and the posters, it was obvious that this was the office of a Russian historian.  
She picked up a pile of blue books from the shelf and smiled at Napoleon. “I’ll never forget you two walking in here that day. I took one look at Illya Nikolayevich and thought ‘Oh, My!’” She smiled impishly. “Of course, you are very handsome, too, Napoleon.”  
“Listen, I was here and I saw it. It was like electricity. I was expecting you two to push me out and lock the door.”  
“That would have been rude, Napoleon. Besides, we were making arrangements.”  
“See, that’s one of the reasons you two clicked. You both have a weird sense of humor. Would you like to get something to drink? I don’t want to get back until he’s done.”  
“Yes, that’s a good idea. It wasn’t going well when we left.”  
“Mr. Quantum. I like that; I’ll have to remember that.” They left, Elizabeth relocking all the doors.  
“I only call him that to keep up his spirits.”

The rest of the extended weekend was very low key. When Napoleon and Elizabeth returned, Illya was napping in their bedroom, sink fixed. Elizabeth made Shepard’s Pie for dinner, for dessert they finished off the cake. Illya’s eating capacity was at its usual standard; there were no leftovers.  
Napoleon decided that they should have an afternoon to themselves and so announced on Sunday morning that he was going to find an orchard and buy some apples for her and to take back to New York. Elizabeth reminded him that she was making a pot roast for dinner. Illya said that late afternoon was a perfect time for pot roast. Napoleon got the hint and left soon after breakfast.  
After Napoleon left, Elizabeth said, “That was very kind of him.”  
“Yes,” Illya said smiling at her, “And we should take full advantage of his kindness.”  
Napoleon returned around three, and walked in to a very quiet house. Illya was sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking some tea. “This has been a wonderful weekend, Napoleon. What do you think it would be like to live like this?”  
“I think you’d be bored out of your mind in a week.”  
“Well, I tell myself that. I wish I could find an Elizabeth for you and we could go someplace safe.”  
“That’s not until we come out of the field, and that’s another two years.”  
“I know and I wouldn’t change that. I am as big an adrenaline junkie as you are, but I do love Elizabeth so.”  
“Illya, I really didn’t think you two could make this work, but as I told Elizabeth, ‘so far, so good.’”  
“We just have to stay being the best.” He grinned at Napoleon. “I’ll go wake her up and we can have pot roast. Elizabeth told me that she can cook maybe ten things, but those things she can cook very well.” He walked into the bedroom and Napoleon found himself aching for him, for all of them.  
Pot roast, hot rolls, salad and Illya’s beloved chocolate ice cream. Elizabeth passed on the ice cream and Illya limited himself to three bowls. They would be leaving very early the next morning to make a commuter flight from Lansing to Chicago, and then to New York.  
That evening, Elizabeth insisted that they watch the Ed Sullivan Show. “He’s going to have both Dusty Springfield and the Drifters. I guess it’s the ‘D’ week.” Illya was filling in the New York Times’ crossword puzzle and Napoleon was reading the sports section. “I know neither of you really like rock ‘n roll but this is pretty low key. Besides, they are fantastic!”  
“So,” Illya said, without looking up, “by that standard, Freddie and the Dreamers must be next week. That is, if Ed goes by first names.”  
Dusty Springfield was first, singing the song Napoleon had heard yesterday morning, and then she sang “Stay Awhile.” He glanced at Elizabeth and saw that there were tears in her eyes; he decided to break his resolution about current popular music, and buy a copy of the song so he could understand what was making her cry. Elizabeth got up suddenly, as the song finished and Miss Springfield took her bow, and asked if they wanted coffee or tea. Illya said “Vodka,” and Elizabeth just rolled her eyes. It was a remarkably Kuryakin move.  
She brought in a vodka for Illya, a Scotch for Napoleon and a glass of rose for herself. The Drifters were introduced, and began singing “On Broadway.” Elizabeth was gently swaying and singing along. Illya left the crossword puzzle, came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, both of them swaying in time to the music. When the song finished, he kissed the nape of her neck and sat back down. When the Drifters were done, Elizabeth turned the television off and picked up a book about the American Civil War. They all three read in quiet for about an hour, and then Napoleon stood up and said he was going to bed. He poured himself another Scotch and they both wished him a good night.

The next morning was subdued. Since, as Napoleon had learned, Elizabeth’s idea of breakfast was tea and toast, he found Illya making eggs and bacon. “Since you like it so much,” he was saying to her as Napoleon came into the kitchen, “I do not understand why you do not make this for yourself.”  
“It’s too much work,” she said to him as she poured herself some tea. “Good morning, Napoleon. I can’t get the daily New York Times, so you’ll have to settle for the Asherton Bugle.”  
“Bungle, more like,” Illya said as he set a plate of eggs and bacon down for Napoleon. The dog, Bailey, was staring at Illya and Napoleon saw Illya slip the dog a piece of bacon. Elizabeth had also seen Illya give Bailey the bacon and smiled at Napoleon. As he sat down, he asked, “Elizabeth, do you drink this much tea every morning.”  
“I think of it more as starter fluid, Illya Nikolayevich, and yes, I do.” She handed the front section of the paper to Illya and poured herself more tea. She refilled Illya’s and Napoleon’s coffee, picked up her tea and left the kitchen. Bailey followed her mistress out of the room.  
“Ready to go, partner?” Napoleon asked Illya while they traded sections of the paper.  
“Yes,” he said shortly. “I am ready.” They sat quietly for about another twenty minutes, finishing the paper and their breakfasts. “Time to go,” Illya said as he put all the dishes in the sink. He called into the bedroom, “Elizabeth, we’re going to leave now.”  
“I’ll be right out. Give me a second.”  
Illya had already put his suitcase in the car and was waiting for Napoleon to get his suitcase and Elizabeth to come out of the bedroom. As Napoleon reentered the living room, he saw them hugging tightly. Illya whispered something into her hair and she seemed to hold him even tighter. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and then left. Napoleon also hugged her and followed Illya out the door.  
Illya had already started the car, but as Napoleon slid into the passenger side, he said abruptly, “I forgot the jelly that I bought yesterday. I’ll be just a second. Do you want to come back in and give her another kiss?”  
Then Illya said something that Napoleon thought was very odd. “I would not embarrass Elizabeth so.” Napoleon shot him a puzzled glance and opened the car door. He went back into the house and then understood what Illya had meant. Elizabeth was sitting at the breakfast bar, crying.  
She looked up at Napoleon and visibly pulled herself together. “Forget something?” she asked, standing up and smiling.  
“Just what I bought yesterday. I’ll get it and we’ll be gone.”  
She followed him, saying quietly, “Please don’t tell Illya.”  
“I think he knows, Elizabeth.”  
“But he doesn’t have to know.” She put a strong emphasis on the ‘know.’ “I don’t want him to know how frightened I am. That’s part of the deal, and it’s always hardest when he’s just leaving.”  
“I’m … I’m sorry,” Napoleon said as he held her.  
“I know.” She took a deep sigh. “As soon as you leave, I’m going to put more makeup on, go to the office and bury myself in work.” She started crying again, “Oh, my god, Napoleon, that was a terrible choice of words.”  
“No,” he said softly, “Don’t worry about it.”  
She took in a shaky breath. “Love you both. Now go, please.” She started toward the bedroom, Bailey following. Napoleon picked up his sack and went out the front door, closing it softly.  
Illya said nothing as he backed out of the driveway, nothing while they drove out of Asherton, nothing when they got on the Interstate. Finally, he said, “This is the time that is the hardest, the time I think I have done Elizabeth a terrible wrong. She was crying, wasn’t she?”  
“Yes, but she didn’t want you to know. She said she was going to her office.”  
“And she will teach her Ancient Civilizations class this afternoon. She’s on the Egyptians. They are her favorite, that will help.”  
“And we have lots of paper work waiting for us in New York.”  
“I know, and that will help.” Illya looked directly at Napoleon for a moment. “It was a good weekend, yes?”  
“One of the best,” he said with smile. “I’ll never forget you two belting out the Soviet national anthem.”  
“Yes,” Illya said softly, “One of the best.”


End file.
